Shakahola's Silent Wounds: Two Years On, Kenya Still Grapples with Pain and Justice

 

By Morara Beckham 

 Two years have passed since the grim revelations of the Shakahola Forest massacre stunned Kenya and the world. But in villages across Kilifi and beyond, the wounds remain fresh. What began as a bizarre cult story has unraveled into one of the country’s darkest chapters—one that continues to expose cracks in Kenya’s social, spiritual, and institutional fabric.

The tragedy, which saw hundreds of followers of self-proclaimed pastor Paul Nthenge Mackenzie starved to death under the guise of religious salvation, left behind more than the haunting number of bodies—it left behind a grieving nation searching for meaning, accountability, and healing.

Youths Haunted by the Graves They Dug

Beneath the staggering death toll lies a layer of untold stories—those of local youths hired to help exhume the dead from mass graves hidden deep within the forest. Lured by the promise of a modest wage, many had no idea what awaited them. What they found would stay with them forever.

“They came back different,” said one village elder in Malindi. “Some don’t speak much anymore. Some can’t sleep. Some haven’t gone back to school.”

Tasked with unearthing the bodies of men, women, and children, the young workers say the trauma didn’t end when the digging stopped. Nightmares, anxiety, and emotional withdrawal have become part of their daily lives. Few have received psychological support. Most carry the weight silently.

Families Still Waiting

With over 400 graves discovered and hundreds of victims still unidentified, many families remain in a cruel limbo. DNA testing has moved at a painfully slow pace. Some families have been able to finally bury their loved ones—but for many, every day without answers feels like a fresh wound.

“We were told to wait for results,” said Amina Omar, who lost her two nephews. “Two years later, we’re still waiting. No names. No bodies. Just silence.”

Burials, when they do happen, often offer little closure. The grief is wrapped in confusion, the ceremonies shadowed by unanswered questions. For many, the idea of “moving on” feels like a betrayal.

Legal Process Brings Little Solace

Mackenzie and nearly 100 co-accused remain in custody, facing charges including murder, terrorism, and child abuse. But the wheels of justice have turned slowly. While the trial is ongoing, families say it has not brought the emotional resolution they had hoped for.

“The court may deliver a verdict,” said a human rights advocate based in Mombasa. “But the community needs more than that—it needs restoration.”

Some survivors and relatives of the victims say they have lost faith not only in religious leaders but in state institutions that failed to prevent the cult’s deadly grip. Warning signs were missed, and desperate pleas from relatives were ignored until it was too late.

A National Wake-Up Call?

In recent months, Kenya was jolted again when dozens were rescued from a similar cult-like situation in Migori County, echoing the horrors of Shakahola. The repetition has forced the nation to confront the uncomfortable reality: this was not an isolated tragedy.

Religious extremism, when combined with poverty, desperation, and institutional neglect, forms a dangerous mix. While the government has pledged reforms, including stricter regulation of religious organizations, progress has been slow.

Civil society groups warn that without consistent oversight and grassroots education, Kenya risks repeating its mistakes.

Remembering, But Not Forgetting

Plans are underway to transform the Shakahola site into a national remembrance forest—a space for reflection, education, and healing. But for those who toiled in the soil or lost loved ones to its horror, memorials feel distant from the pain they live with daily.

“Turning it into a memorial won't undo the damage,” said a local pastor who has been counseling survivors. “But maybe, just maybe, it will help the country remember—and act.”

A Wound Still Open

Shakahola was not just a tragedy—it became a mirror, revealing deep societal fractures. It exposed how easily faith can be manipulated, how quickly communities can be abandoned, and how long trauma can last after the media has moved on.